Land of the Free, Home of the Brave

“Do you like Obama?”

After an hour of wading through complex manifestations of grammar rules and stating more than a few times that yes, I’m “from” Arizona (but it’s a dry heat), someone in my English classes will inevitably ask me this question. Whether it’s the older woman with the bad teeth trying to keep up with the changing times or the grease ball with the pierced ear trying to impress me into his cama, the whole class turns and stares at me with bated breath. Usually, I avoid this question by asking them, “Well, how do you feel about Zapatero?” which earns me a few laughs (to give you a clue as to the Spanish president’s general popularity, every time he comes on the news my Spanish dad draws a finger across this throat and tells the TV screen to “go away”).

I’m supposed to say, “Yeah, I love him! Way better than that Bush idiot!” But that’s not entirely the truth, and if I don’t love him then I must hate him, which makes me one of those gun-shooting, hotdog-eating lunatics they can’t bear to share the world with--someone I’m supposed to hasten to apologize for. I know what they want me to say. Me, the lone American girl standing in an English language classroom that has room for a Welsh dragon but not an American flag--I’m supposed to apologize for being American. Like it’s some sort of handicap or something.

This past month, eager to make friends and eager to be accepted in the European community, whenever the question of my essential American-ness came up, I’d just turn the appropriate shade of red shuffle my feet saying, “Yeah seriously, Americans can be so ignorant, and fat, and...” mumbling off, letting the other people in the conversation take over with the depreciating comments--insult after insult rolling off of me because well hell, Americans really are ignorant and fat, and who cares as long as these three Spaniards knew I was the exception?

Then I realized something. Listening to my peers make the same excuses started to really bother me. I felt like that recently-cool kid sitting at the jock table listening to his new friends bash all of his old ones, throwing in a lame “Hey, come on you guys, he’s not really that bad,” every once in a while. 

The Obama thing, for example. I was walking through town with two American girls and we were talking about some of the differences between Spain and the US, and one of them says, “Spain is just so much better! American politics are fucked up.” To say that this sweeping generalization rankled...Well, let’s just say that after a fortnight of watching Egyptian riots and countless other examples of actually “fucked up” political situations, yeah. It rankled. Sure, maybe our bipartisan deal isn’t the best system ever, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that it’s a hell of a lot better than a lot of other places I could name.

What happened to sane patriotism? When did we become this bipolar nation of gun-waving crazies and whimpering, self-depreciating pansies? It sort of makes me sick. Yeah, I’m American--I waste a lot of natural resources in my quest for material comfort, but I also like living in a place where smiling at people in the street is a common courtesy and not a sexual advance (that was an interesting lesson). I like living in a place where blatant racism is not an acceptable social mechanism. I like living in a place where ambition is a virtue. Christ, I like living in a place where saying you’ll show up at two means two and not three forty-five. What’s wrong with a little national pride? I mean, I’m not about to start marching around the streets of Spain with an American flag tied around my neck and my nose in the air, but it would be nice not to have to feel like I’ve committed some crime by just being from the United States every time I meet a new person.

So about Obama--do I like him? The last time someone asked me, I told him that yeah, I thought he seemed like a pretty cool guy. He's charismatic and has a soothing presence on air, which is something I thought the American people needed after George Bush, and as to his policies, I couldn’t really say--I agreed with him on some issues and not on others, and anyway, the United States is governed by a careful system of checks and balances, which serve to ensure that not too much power goes to just one man, so to ask if I liked Obama...

Right about there I looked around and noticed that my students were all staring at me in various stages of miscomprehension, some of them nodding politely while their neighbors just frowned, waiting for me to say a simple “yes” or “no.” It was then that I sighed and made another joke about Zapatero. Hey, what can I say? I’m just an American, anyway.

(Here's a picture that came up when I googled "Patriotism." Enjoy it, you "fucking hippie fagot.")